


that good in reality.

by halfwheeze



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, M/M, mike is a soft boy, stan is a hoodie stealing gremlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 02:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: based off of a headcanon i sent to imeddie on tumblr, stan likes to steal all of mike's hoodies and mike doesn't mind at all.





	that good in reality.

**Author's Note:**

> tori, i hope you love this!

It's not an intended thing. There isn't a pointed moment where he starts passing over his hoodies as soon as they're purchased, exchanging them for another of his own hoodies from his friend's hands, but it's still a thing. As soon as Mike wears a new hoodie for about three or four days, Stan takes it off his hands, wears it for about a week, and exchanges it for another of the stash of Mike's hoodies he has in his room. Mike isn't quite sure how many of his hoodies are stashed somewhere in the organised space of Stan's bedroom, or even where they would be stashed, but it's definitely more than Mike has in his own closet. 

They don't talk about it. Not even Richie brings up the way that Stan is constantly swimming in clothing that doesn't belong to him, cut for forearms much larger than his, shoulders much broader. All of the losers notice how little Stan is panicking now, how much happier he seems, and no one is going to come between that. Mike, in his careful way, just watches, donates his clothing to the cause of Stan Uris’s smile, and comes over to the Uris house occasionally when he really needs something back. 

Like, today for example. Mike Hanlon probably owns more sweatshirts from more universities from more states and from more countries that anyone he knows. His mother, whenever she sees one on sale for even vaguely his size, buys university hoodies and sweatshirts whenever she sees one. She presents them to him excitedly, spreading them out on his bed if he’s not home when she gets there, and grins at him. She says something about one more school that he could look at someday, and he smiles and takes the new garment, adding it to his collection. His collection, now, is mostly at Stan’s house, however, so it would just go on a chair if she brought him one today. 

Though, that’s not the problem. It’s kinda the opposite of the problem. His mom has decided that she needs to see him wearing his Harvard hoodie tomorrow when they were doing the collegiate interviews at the library, despite the fact that he isn’t even old enough to be looking at colleges yet. Bigger than his mother’s muddled motivations, Mike has to deal with the fact that he knows exactly where his Harvard hoodie is: laying across the headboard of one of his best friend’s beds. He makes an excuse to his mother and then to his father as he jets out of the door, climbing onto his bike and shooting off to the Uris household. 

When he knocks on the Uris door, Stan’s dad answers. He didn’t think that Stan’s dad was going to like him, when he first met the guy, but he took to Mike pretty immediately, and they’ve gotten along well ever since. 

“Mike! Stanley is in his room, you can let yourself in,” Stan’s dad says, reaching out to shake his hand before stepping out of Mike’s way. Mike grins up at him and nods once, letting his usual quiet take place of polite greeting; Stan’s dad understands. He walks back to Stan’s door and knocks even as Stan’s dad just told him to walk in, because Mr. Uris does not control the amount of privacy that Mike is willing to give Stan, and Mike is willing to give him as much as he wants. 

“Yes? You can come in, if you like,” Stan says through the door, likely assuming that it’s his mother or his father. Mike steps in anyway, opening the door quietly and shutting it with just the same lack of noise. Stan is sat at his desk with glasses perched on his nose, looking at a catalogue of cameras, likely looking for the choice pick for his parents to get him for his birthday coming up. One of his knees is up nearly against his chest, his hand and chin propped on top of it. Covering most of his body and going nearly down to his knees is the exact Harvard hoodie that Mike came for, one of his hands idly playing with one of the hoodie strings. He looks like a picture of peace. 

“Hey Stan,” Mike announces himself before he sits cross legged in the middle of Stan’s floor, leaning against the bed. Stan startles to look at him, his glasses nearly falling off of his face in how they were already sliding down. A piece of Mike sings as Stan breaks into a full smile. 

“Mike! Hi,” Stan says, just looking at him, and Mike lets there be a silence of the two of them just looking before clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, um, I came here for a reason - I want to hang out! But also, I need one of my hoodies,” Mike stumbles over his words, holding himself back from scrubbing a hand over his face in his embarrassment. He’s glad he doesn’t, because Stan turns a pretty pink that he would have hated to miss, burning from his neck to his ears in its colorful intensity. Mike lets his smile soften with fondness. 

“Oh, um, okay. Which one?” Stan asks, looking down at himself to break their eye contact. Mike feels blood rush to his face. Mike almost wants to reach out to touch him, but he keeps his hands to himself. 

“That one, actually. You can have this one, if you want?” Mike offers, and he kinda wants to punch himself in the face for offering. He would give anything to Stan, anything he asked for, but he doesn’t have to make it so obvious. Stan colors all over again. 

“Uh, yeah, okay. Can I ask you a question, though?” he asks, looking down at the floor now instead of even at himself or at his hands. Mike shoots him a careful smile, attempting to project a calm that would quell the panic he can already feel coming from Stan’s general direction. He’s always been easy to read. 

“Anything,” Mike replies, his voice just so soft as his smile, and he dips his head to show his attention. Stan exhales slowly, as if he’s steeling himself. 

“Why do you let me steal your clothes? Why are you so - so nice to me? Even the rest of our friends, they don’t - I. Why do you take care of me?” Stan stumbles over his questions, but his voice is even, clean and hard. He sounds more like his father than himself, but Mike knows that it’s a front, just a way to keep himself together. He knows Stan, and he knows himself, and he knows that honesty is the only way to go with this. 

“Because I like you in my clothes. Because I like you all the time. I just want you to be happy, and to feel safe,” Mike explains, simple, because of all the complicated things in Mike’s life, liking Stan has always been simple. Stan looks at him with eyes round as saucers before he’s out of his chair, sitting in the floor next to Mike. He takes Mike’s hand into his and holds them in his lap, offering a tentative smile. 

“I - I like you too, Mike. I like you all the time. You make me feel safe,” Stan says, and he moves a curl away from his own face and Mike wants to do the same, wants to touch Stan’s face and his hair. He reaches out for real this time, moves a hair from the other side with his free hand, and Stan looks at him like he’s hung the moon. Mike isn’t sure who leans forward, whether it’s him, or it’s Stan, or it’s the two of them both, but one moment they’re looking at each other and the next they’re too close to look. His eyes slide closed as they share a chaste kiss, soft and sweet. Mike is the one to pull away, if only because it seems like he’ll never be able to pull away from Stan if he doesn’t do it now. 

“So, hoodies, huh?” 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys enjoyed, feel free to send me prompts @hcckstetter on tumblr!


End file.
